If John had looked in his rearview mirror, he might have picked up on his tail, but he was too busy playing over and over in his mind his brief encounter with Arnold Stonebridge.
When he reached the mini parking area at the apartment complex, he was in too much of a hurry to see or pay attention to the car that followed him. He hopped out, grabbed his gear, and sprinted toward the staircase that would take him to his and Beth’s second-floor apartment. He hoped she was still up, so he could share the evening’s events with her.
Chapter Fifteen
It was almost dawn when John steered his SUV around the corner and into Beth’s driveway. He was tired, and he had eye strain from driving through the night. He’d hoped that Beth would stay awake and talk to him for the long drive, but she’d curled up in the backseat and slept the whole trip. Because . . . as she put it, she had to cook, whereas he could sleep until dinner. It did make sense, so he didn’t argue with her. Right now, all he wanted was a hot shower and a warm bed. Beth, he knew, would head straight for the kitchen to start the turkey.
“Hey, sleepyhead, wake up! We’re home!”
Beth stirred. She was groggy as she tried to focus. “Already? Oh, my gosh, it is really snowing out. We hardly ever get snow here.”
“Duh. The good news is it is not sticking to the ground, and it is letting up.” John laughed. He slid out of the car in time to see Jim Mack swerve into the driveway and park right behind him. A wave of relief washed over him. For some reason, just looking at Jim Mack made him feel safe. Beth had said the same thing.
“We’re crazy, you know that, right?” John teased. “Who in their right mind drives seven hours, spends all day cooking a huge dinner that is consumed in twenty minutes, cleans up, and then gets in the car and drives seven hours again and goes to work. What were you thinking, Beth?”
“I was thinking I wanted to be in my own house for Thanksgiving dinner, a dinner that I cooked myself. I miss my fish. I miss Gracie, Moose, and Giz. I feel closer to Jake here even though I’m not going to see him. Any other questions?” Beth snapped irritably.
“Nope. I see smoke coming out of the chimney, so I guess Gracie was here to turn up the heat, and I bet you a dollar there is a fire going in the fireplace. What time is Moose due?”
Beth threw her hands in the air. “I thought he’d be here by now. He could be. Maybe someone dropped him off or he put his truck in the garage. Ooops, I spoke too soon. I hear his truck.”
John peered through the swirling snow and, sure enough, there was Moose turning into the driveway, followed by Gracie. “Looks like the gang’s all here! And I’m off to bed. What about you, Jim? Giz is here, so I think you can safely hit the sack.”
The detective nodded in agreement as they all trooped into the warm house.
Gracie frowned when she heard Beth let loose with a mighty sigh, a dreamy look on her face. Something just wasn’t adding up where her friend was concerned. Even though she and Beth had been friends as well as business partners for what seemed like forever, Gracie realized there was still a lot about her friend that she didn’t know. Like this return trip home for Thanksgiving in the midst of all that was going on. And a dinner she was going to cook herself. Beth’s cooking abilities were on a par with her singing abilities, about as nonexistent. She wished it was Moose who was doing the dinner. Thanksgiving dinners were supposed to be special. She seriously doubted this dinner would be special. Something just wasn’t adding up. Maybe, by the end of the day, she’d figure it out. If not, oh, well. In the meantime, she’d keep a sharp eye on Beth and try to figure out what she was missing.
By ten o’clock, the twenty-pound bird was prepped, dressed, tented, and in the oven, with Moose doing most of the work. He’d taken one look at Beth and her rubber gloves and made her sit down to watch.
Both Beth and Gracie watched as Moose moved about the kitchen like a seasoned, five-star chef. Moose announced that the vegetables were their job. They started hacking away the moment he turned to continue with a bourbon pecan pie his bingo partner had shared with him and which he served with a special maple whipped cream. After his pumpkin chiffon pie, which was his own concoction, he considered this pie his specialty even though it wasn’t his recipe.
By noon, everything was as ready as it could be, even Gizmo’s chicken breasts, which were being cooked separately as he couldn’t eat turkey. The table was set with Beth’s good china, compliments of her grandmother. The crystal and silverware were compliments of her mother. The linen tablecloth and matching napkins were her own, purchased the first year she’d moved into this little house.
Beth studied the table and pronounced it festive. Only Moose saw the sadness in her eyes. He pretended otherwise. Gracie noticed, too, when the conversation petered out.
“How about some cheese, crackers, and coffee in front of the fire?” Moose suggested. “We can play catch-up, and you, Beth, can tell us what’s going on in Nashville.” The women agreed and retired, along with Giz, to the living room, where they dropped down and sat by the fire on plush cushions.
Beth knew she was on what Moose called the hot spot. For a moment, she resented both of them, but for only a moment. They cared about her, worried about her. She hoped she didn’t look as shaky as she felt on the inside. She knew she was going to have to fess up about Luke Olsen’s being in Nashville. Why in the world she ever thought she could handle that on her own was mind boggling.
No sooner were they settled than the doorbell rang. Gizmo was on his feet, the hair on the nape of his neck straight up. He started to quiver and waited for a command from Gracie. “Go!” She ran after him, and both skidded to a stop at the door. Through one of the windowpanes on opposite sides of the door, Gracie could see a delivery truck with a sign on its side that said EDIBLE TREASURES. She motioned for Gizmo to sit and opened the door. A youngish girl in a bright orange outfit held out a huge, cellophane-wrapped cornucopia filled to the brim with fruit, nuts, and berries. Gracie blinked as the girl handed it over.
Moose, right behind her, reached into his pocket and withdrew some crumpled bills that he held out. The girl smiled, thanked him, and turned to walk away. Gizmo growled. Gracie hushed him as she set the arrangement on the floor. “Check it out, Giz!” she said as she ripped away the shiny, crackling paper. Giz whined, growled, then upended the basket, the contents rolling all over the floor. He sniffed each and every item, pawed the horn, then stepped back and barked twice. “We’re good here,” Gracie said, gathering up the contents and stuffing them back into the horn.
“Who is it from? Jake?” Moose asked.
“Don’t know. The card is addressed to Beth, so I guess she should open it.”
Beth stood in the doorway, watching her friends walking toward her. Giz got there first and licked at her hand. “Throw it in the trash,” Beth said coldly.
“Aren’t you going to look at the card to see who sent it?” Moose asked.
Beth fixed her steely gaze on Moose, and said, “It’s not from Jake. It’s from Luke Olsen. He wants me to know he knows I’m home. If you don’t believe me, look at the card. Yesterday, he sent me some flowers, a fall arrangement, the kind you put on your Thanksgiving table. I threw them away before John could see them. He wants me to know he’s wherever I am but out of sight. Throw that away, Gracie!” Beth shrieked.
“Okay, okay! You never told me he sent you anything in Nashville.” She eyed the colorful little card that was stapled to the cellophane. She swallowed hard at the wording.
I will be thinking of you as you sit down to Thanksgiving dinner. I plan to give thanks for having you in my life. I’ll see you soon.
There was no signature, just two entwined, hand-drawn hearts. Gracie read the words, then held the card up. She ripped it into small pieces she carried over to the fireplace. The trio watched the flames eat up the offensive, ugly little bits of paper.
Gracie whirled around and eyeballed Beth. “You knew he was already in Nashville when I called to warn you, didn’t
you, and you didn’t say a word? What were you thinking, Beth?”
“I thought . . . I thought he’d go away as long as I ignored him. I didn’t want to upset you. You have enough going on here as it is. I’m sorry, Gracie. I never should have involved you in any of this. Jake . . . the business . . . and now this.”
“And now this is right. Beth, he was here in your house, he went through your things. He was in your bedroom, your bathroom. He stole the file you had on him. Then he followed you to Nashville. And you kept it all a secret from John! I don’t believe this,” Gracie all but snarled. “This . . . this . . . arrangement he sent has to mean he’s back here in town, and he followed you back from Nashville. He’s goading you. What did the message on the flowers he sent to you in Nashville say?”
“He . . . he made it sound like we were a couple already. I told you, I threw them away. I was going to go to the police the day you called me. I know there is nothing they could do, but I just wanted to have something on file in Nashville. It’s not against the law to send someone flowers or gifts, so other than ask them to call the police here for a report, there isn’t anything they can do. I never saw Luke in Nashville. You know as well as I do that you cannot accuse someone of something as serious as stalking without ramifications. I might act like a fool once in a while, but I am not a fool. I know he’s deranged, but there’s nothing we can do about it until he does something that is against the law. I had every intention of telling John, too. But you beat me to it all. And now, here we are.”
Gracie turned around and looked at the door. “He’s out there!”
“And there is not a thing we can do about it unless he comes on my property. It’s not against the law to park on the street. It’s a public thoroughfare. He knows all that. He isn’t going to make the same mistakes he made the last time.”
Moose decided it was time to voice his opinion. “Are we saying that crazy loony tune is out there in the snow, parked in his car and watching this house hoping you’re going to go out there and talk to him or invite him in for dinner? Maybe we should wake up that dee-tek-tive, who is sound asleep upstairs, and have him and this here dog go out there and scare the bejesus out of that man.”
“No! That’s what he wants. He wants a face-to-face with Beth. If she acknowledges him, then he wins. Going out there and confronting him, if he’s even out there, will just escalate the situation. I’m going to dump this outside in the trash can and hope he sees me doing it,” Gracie said.
Gracie walked through the kitchen to the garage and raised the heavy door where two large blue trash cans sat at the side of the house. She made a production out of lifting the lid and dumping the contents in the can even though she seriously doubted Luke Olsen could see her through the snow flurries. On the other hand, if he had binoculars, he would have a crystal-clear view of her and what she was doing. In a fit of anger, she offered up a single-digit salute and marched back into the house.
“Did you see any cars out there?” Beth asked.
“No. He could be parked around the corner or down at the end of the block with binoculars, but I couldn’t see that far with the swirling snow. It’s not sticking, though, so don’t plan on riding on your sled any time soon.” At best, it was a feeble, lame joke, and no one laughed.
For the next two hours, while their Thanksgiving dinner was cooking, the three of them talked ad nauseam about Luke Olsen until Beth threw her hands in the air, and said, “Enough already. We’re just making ourselves crazy over this. Today is Thanksgiving. We need to talk about how good our lives are. This business with Luke Olsen is just a rock in the road. We’ll deal with it. I’ve missed you, Gracie, and you, too, Giz. I even missed you, you old curmudgeon,” she said to Moose. “Now, tell me what I need to know about Jake. What are the doctors saying? Are they hopeful he will be able to walk again? I’m not saying running or playing football, simply walking and not having to live in that damn chair.”
Moose sighed as he got up to toss another log on the fire. “Jake is keeping it all pretty close to the vest this time. As you know, we had that little spat. Well,” he drawled, “it was more than a little spat. He had to do some heavy-duty thinking, and everything he’s doing seems to be working so far. In my opinion, he’s done a one-eighty, and this here dog helped him a lot. He likes the animal. I heard him say to the dog that when he’s walking again he’s going to go out to the yard and throw a ball for him to fetch. Is that wishful thinking? I don’t think so. He’s not afraid these days. It was fear and the drugs that kept him glued to that chair. You shook him up, Beth. The minute he started worrying about you, he stopped worrying about himself.
“If he makes it through the operation, and he said the doctors are confident he will, the only thing he has to contend with is the killer therapy. For whatever it’s worth, he’s up to it. He really is. He’s had enough of the chair.”
“What is he doing today? Please don’t tell me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Beth said.
“He told me the other day he ordered a complete Thanksgiving dinner from Zabar’s in New York. It was delivered last night. All he has to do is warm it up today. Don’t look like that, Beth. Even if you had invited him today, he would have said no. He is doing what you expect of him. You drew the line in the sand, and he isn’t going to wheel across it. In time, he’ll be able to step over it, but not yet.
“He has not asked for my help, and as far as I know, he hasn’t asked anyone else either. He’s taking full responsibility for himself. A medical van is picking him up tomorrow even though I offered to drive him to the hospital for the workup. I’ll be there when they operate on him even though he said he didn’t want me there. No one should go under the knife without someone on the outside worrying about him.”
Beth nodded. “I should be there.” No one disputed her words, and she started to cry. “I should have let well enough alone and not badgered him. I was a bully. I forced myself on him, just dumped everything on him, and walked away,” she said, sobbing.
Gizmo knew what tears and sobs were because he had comforted Gracie when her memories took her to dark places. He bellied over to Beth and forced her to take his head in her hands and smile. He licked at her and whimpered until she hugged him so hard he yelped, but he didn’t move until Beth stopped crying.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Beezer. If you hadn’t done what you did, none of us would be sitting here, and Jake wouldn’t be eating Zabar’s and dreaming about walking again. He’s doing it, thanks to you. You need to move on from that guilt and let the chips fall where they may. The rest is up to Jake,” Moose said. “Be back in a minute. Gotta check on my pies. Don’t say anything bad about me while I’m gone.”
Gizmo barked as much as to say, “Not on my watch.”
“Moose is right, Beth. Jake is doing what he needs to do, thanks to you. If you hadn’t laid down the law, he might never have gotten up the courage to go back for the operation.”
“I was being selfish, Gracie,” Beth hiccuped. “Not totally, but I was thinking about myself. I can’t marry John unless Jake walks me down the aisle. I made that promise to myself years ago. It has to be Jake. John gets upset with me, but it is what it is. Now that we’re where we are, I keep asking myself if Jake will even want to walk me down the aisle. Until recently, I never even gave that a thought. See how selfish I am? I just assumed he would; now I’m not so sure.” She started to wail again.
“Beth, your brother loves you, and I know you love him. You’re all each other have in the way of a blood family. Jake knows that. I can tell. I know you know it, too. In the end, as we are both fond of saying, it will end just the way it is meant to end, no matter what you or Jake do. So, tell me about Nashville,” Gracie said, hoping to divert Beth’s line of thought to something that made her happy.
Beth’s face lit up like a beacon. “Well, for starters, I love Nashville. I love the people. So does John. Oh, Gracie, the move was so worth it. I’ve never seen John so happy. He’s got a gr
eat job with the band. His day job isn’t too taxing, and he’s making enough money to pay his share of everything. You know how proud he is. My singing lessons are going . . . okay. I’m really working it. Will I ever be famous? I seriously doubt it, but it won’t be for lack of trying. I have all the paperwork and forms and deposit requirements ready to be filled out so I can cut the CD in February. You have to reserve the recording studio like three months in advance. I was just starting on all of that when Jim Mack showed up. It’s all still sitting on the kitchen table back in Nashville. I’ll get to work on it when we go back. We made some new friends, really great people. It’s so interesting how everyone seems to look out for each other.
“And then there is the club, Rootie Tootie’s. It’s magic, Gracie. Wait till I tell you what happened to John the other night at the club. The owner . . .”
Chapter Sixteen
Beth Masters’s kitchen took on a life of its own the moment the clock struck three. As Moose put it, “We’re coming into the home stretch now, time to make the gravy, let the bird rest, and get all the side dishes going so everything gets to the table hot.”
“That’s impossible,” Gracie muttered under her breath. A lively discussion followed when Moose guaranteed everything would be hot. “It’s all in the timing.”
Jim Mack and John appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking freshly scrubbed, rested, and hungry. Together, they asked if they could help.
“Only way to help is to stay out of the kitchen, because it isn’t big enough for all of us,” Moose growled.
Perfect Match Page 17